Scars
by madeleine68
Summary: We all have scars, but mine are different. A/O THE LAST CHAPTER IS UP! Please review.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Confession time: nothing's mine. But then, you knew that already.**

**This is major A/O. I'm not so good at this pairing, but I want to try, so bear with me here. I hope you enjoy!**

_Prologue_

Everybody has scars. Elliot has one on his left elbow, from when he fell off his bike at the age of eight. John has one right in the center of his forehead, from chicken pox. Olivia has scars all over her body; she's been in more fights than anyone I know, but she bears the marks proudly. Battle scars. I see them at night when we're lying in bed together, but they only make her more beautiful, if that's even possible.

But my scars are different. They connote the weakness and shame that I feel every morning as I change from my pyjamas to my business suits. They are the parts of me I will never let anyone get close enough to see, not even Olivia.

It's why I will never let her touch me, even though sometimes my body burns with desire and all I want to do is cry out her name, tear off my clothes in a fit of passion like they do in the movies and beg her to make me feel things I've never felt before.

Much as I would love to give myself to her fully, I can't. I'm generally a private person, but those scars are a part of me buried deep in my core. Like an onion, you have to peel off layer after layer after layer before you reach my heart. And so far, no one has managed to penetrate the layers. They give up after the first couple, deciding I'm not worth their time.

Maybe Olivia will be different. Maybe she'll be the first.

**Review for chapter two!**


	2. Chapter One

**Just so you know, updates are probably going to be intermittent from here on. There might be two in one day and then none for two weeks. I apologize in advance; I'm currently having a lot of "issues" and writing, while it helps a lot, is also time consuming, so I'm not sure how much I'll be able to write.**

_Chapter One_

Adolescence was a difficult time for me. While trying to discover myself and come to terms with the real Alex Cabot, I ended up drinking myself into oblivion, then falling into the arms of one boy after another and subsequently dumping them the next day. I was the Queen Bee, the most popular girl in the school, but I didn't really have any true friends that I could really confide in. I had acquaintances, girls who would follow me wherever I went, but I could never _talk _to them. They revered me – everyone did – and living up to their expectations was a constant struggle.

Even though popularity looks good from the outside, it's never an easy feat. There's so much pressure, to be the thinnest, the prettiest, the smartest . . . it's always a competition. You have more enemies than anyone else and even those you think are friends will turn on you in an instant if they think they can get away with it.

I was invited to every party and I had a gift – or at least, I thought of it that way for a long time. I could be completely stoned and still look as if I hadn't had a drop. I would have eight or nine drinks in a night, just to show off, and then somehow ending up in a bedroom, locked in a passionate kiss with a boy whose name I never bothered to find out. Sometimes we went further and he would be so awestruck – the perfect, gorgeous, popular blonde wanted _them_.

But I didn't. Not really. All I wanted was a reprieve, and in sex, I found solace. It was stupid, but it was true. My life was never as simple and beautiful – never as _easy _– as it appeared.

But then, back in those days, I _was _beautiful. I never minded getting into a skimpy bikini or wearing a halter top or short shorts; in fact, I wore them constantly, just because they were against the dress code but no teacher would ever dare to reprimand _me_. My skin was smooth and tanned, but most of all, it was scar-free.

I hear the knock on my apartment door and briefly wonder who it is. _Well, I guess I'll find out. _Peering through the peephole, I see Olivia, carrying a bunch of bags, which I assume contain dinner.

I roll my eyes as I unlock the door. This would be the third time she's lost her keys this _month_.

"Thanks," says Olivia, flashing me her quirky grin as she carries the bags into the kitchen.

"Let me guess," I say sarcastically. "You lost your keys. Again."

She gives me a sheepish nod. "But I brought back Chinese."

I pretend to think about it for a moment, then concede. "Okay. You're forgiven." My lips turn up into a smile. "I'll get another set of keys made, but don't lose them this time. Keep them in the same place every day!"

She sticks out her lower lip and I think it's the most adorable thing I've ever seen. "I try."

I laugh. "Try harder."

We start to open the takeout bags and set them on the table. I grab some Perrier from the fridge for myself and regular water for Olivia. The first time we went out, I ordered Perrier at the restaurant and she gave me a grin and said, "You're such a princess." Which I guess is true, but I've drunk carbonated water all my life and it just makes more sense for me to ask for the brand name instead of "carbonated water." Do you ask for a Coke or do you ask for "that carbonated, caffeinated sugary drink owned by the Coke company?" Granted, it's not exactly the same thing, but Coca-Cola is still a brand name.

Olivia smirks when she sees the bottles I've carried to the table but doesn't comment. She sits down across from me and takes the noodles out of their container and starts to eat. "How's your sister doing?"

I have a younger sister, Danielle, and I met her for lunch today. She's three years younger than me and while we were never close as children – she might have been jealous of me, the older sister she could never quite live up to – we still get together once every couple of weeks. She is actually Olivia's biggest fan – she thinks she's good for me. She's right.

"She's writing a new book," I tell Olivia. Danielle has wanted to be a writer ever since she was a child and she's started about fifty books throughout the last fifteen years, but she's never got around to finishing any of them, abandoning them after the tenth page. She's a brilliant writer; she just has no self-discipline or work ethic.

I'm just the opposite. Danielle's known what she wanted to do since she was four but never actually got around to doing it, but I decided what I was going to do with my life when I was sixteen and stuck to it. My classmates always thought I'd be an actress, a model, something where I could maximize my looks. But that was before the scars. Then they thought I'd be a corporate lawyer or a politician, maybe even a diplomat; something in which I could make big money.

But my dream from the age of sixteen on was to make a difference, to help the world; to make sure that the events that had turned my life around would never befall another innocent girl, or at least help to lessen the blow. From then on, I knew I would be a lawyer, but not just any lawyer. I would be a prosecutor and I would fight to put away a particular kind of monster. White collar crimes never interested me in the least; they were truly victimless, and all I wanted was to help the victims. Who cares if some huge company who's swindled millions of clients gets conned themselves? I cared about the ones who had truly done nothing wrong. Sure, I masked my true motives with political aspirations, but my façade was just that: a façade,

Olivia's voice forces me back to reality. "What's it about this time?"

"A self-help book."

She laughs. "How ironic."

I laugh with her. My sister can't even hold her own life together, so God help anyone who takes _her _advice. Don't get me wrong; I love my sister, but if you look up _hypocrite _in the dictionary, Danielle's picture will be right there.

"So," says Olivia with a sly grin and a twinkle in her eye. "I'm guessing you bought lunch."

I can't help but smile back. "Oh, of course."

We're lying together in bed that night. Olivia's fast asleep; I can hear her even breathing on the pillow beside mine, but I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, afraid to sleep. Afraid that I'll wake to find this is just a wonderful dream, that the amazing woman beside me, beautiful inside and out, will be gone when I wake up. I've wanted this for so long that I can't bear to lose a minute of it.

And then there are the nightmares. I haven't had a good night's sleep in fifteen years and I'm afraid of thrashing around in the middle of the night as I have for so long, crying out in my sleep until I wake myself up and find tears streaking down my cheeks. Then I wrap my arms around my pillow and rest my tearstained cheek against it, whispering to myself that it's okay, that it was just a bad dream, trying to calm my pounding heart.

But if I stay awake, everything _will _be okay. And Olivia will never know.

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	3. Chapter Two

**Hey, guess what? I have a quick update for you! I actually really like this story . . . a lot . . . even though I think I write better A/O friendship than A/O romance. But I am expanding my horizons! I hope you like this instalment.**

_Chapter Two_

I wake up in the morning to find myself enveloped in Olivia's arms, snug as a bug in a rug as my mother used to say. I sigh contentedly and close my eyes again, happy to just lie here, safe in my girlfriend's embrace. It's Saturday; we can sleep late if we want to.

I hear Olivia's phone start to ring and groan in disappointment. That means SVU has caught a case and she needs to get out of bed – no one else would be calling her at 8:30 on a Saturday morning.

I shake her gently awake. "Liv," I murmur. "Your phone's ringing."

She opens her eyes and sighs. "Sorry. I have to take this."

I give her a small smile. "I know. It's okay."

I roll onto my side so she can get up and she answers her phone with a crisp, "Benson." She listens for a moment, then says, "I'll be there in ten." She hangs up the phone and turns to me, a look of contrition on her face. "Sorry, Alex. We caught a case."

"It's okay. I'll see you later."

She gives me a quick smile before throwing jeans and a t-shirt on over the tank top and boxers she usually sleeps in. I envy her in a way, how comfortable she is with her body. She doesn't care about her scars, but maybe that's because they were accidents.

I wonder if she'd care about mine.

I sleep every night in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, which Olivia thinks is some peculiar modesty that stems from my upbringing. Which would be more than odd, considering I've explored her entire body and it didn't embarrass me in the slightest. I know she wonders about me, why I refuse to change in front of her or wear tank tops or shower with her even though we sleep together, why I refuse to show her my body. But she knows better than to ask.

She asked in the beginning, the first time. "I want you, Alex," she moaned in a rare moment of candour, her passion superseding her caution. Her hands pulled at my shirt, starting to roll it up.

That killed the mood and I shook my head vigorously, wrapping my arms around myself and pushing my shirt down.

She looked disappointed. "Are we rushing things? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. We can stop now if you want."

No. That was the _last_ thing I wanted. "No," I said. "I – I just don't – I'm sorry." There I was, the sharp as a tack, cool as ice attorney, at a loss for words. I didn't know how to explain it to her. I couldn't tell her the truth but I didn't want to lie either.

She stopped anyway, though. "Are you okay, Alex?" she asked, clearly concerned, and I knew she'd noticed the slight shaking of my hands.

I tried to smile, but it didn't meet my eyes. "I'm shy," I admitted; a half-truth.

She laughed. "I'm sure you're beautiful, Alex. You are. But if you don't want to, we don't have to."

I nodded gratefully, but the incident left an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. How could we be together if we couldn't be honest with each other? No, _she_ was perfectly honest with _me _– how could we be together if _I _couldn't be honest with _her_?

She lay down and I rested my head on her chest, trying to calm my pounding heart as Olivia wrapped her arms around me. "It's okay," she said, rubbing comforting circles into my back. "You're not ready. It's okay."

I wanted so much to give myself to her, my whole being, but I couldn't. So instead I just lay there, warm in her embrace, barely caring that I was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt and she wasn't wearing anything at all. This was where I felt safe. This was where I belonged.

I knew it then just as well as I know it now. But if I give in and show her my scars, it will be over. My fairy tale will end and we won't live happily ever after. She would be so disappointed in me, in my _weakness_. She is so strong, for herself, for the victims, for me. She would never let what happened to me happen to her.

Listen to me. Now I sound like a defence attorney. "The victim asked for it." But then, I don't like to think of myself that way. It was fifteen years ago. Now I'm Assistant District Attorney Alex Cabot. The Ice Queen. Passionate. Determined. Steadfast. Just. Fair. _Strong._ The Alex Cabot of fifteen years ago was none of the above. She was a child. She was _weak_.

Well, I guess adversity does make you stronger. What happened to me then could never happen to me now. I wouldn't be weak. I wouldn't be so naïve. I wouldn't be so blind. I wouldn't be so _stupid_.

I was a stupid little kid. I thought nothing bad could ever happen to me. Sure, I took the precautions every child is taught to take; don't walk alone at night, stay out of the "bad" neighbourhoods, keep your phone on, don't talk to strangers, etc. But no one ever told me that the ones who are closest to you are the true predators, the ones with the power to hurt you the most. The ones who _want _to hurt you the most.

**Review for chapter four!**


	4. Chapter Three

**I know this one's short, but I think the relatively quick update was worth it. Enjoy!**

_Chapter Three_

I watch her rush out the door, the familiar feeling of a loss I don't quite understand bubbling in the pit of my stomach. It's not exactly that I'm worried about her – she can take care of herself and Elliot's a good partner; he's got her back – but maybe I'm just terrified that she won't come back to me. I love her. I love being _with _her. And when she's not here, there's an emptiness inside me, a hole that can only be filled by Olivia. When I'm by myself, I feel lonely, even scared. On the outside, I'm Assistant District Attorney Alex Cabot, the determined, passionate, tough as nails ice queen. But on the inside, I'm less confident than that and I need someone else. That someone else is Olivia. She makes everything all right.

I've only been in love once before, and that love wasn't nearly as pure as the love Olivia and I share. I thought I loved him, which is why I stayed. But it wasn't love. It was a pattern that brought me up and down, made me feel on top of the world one day and at the bottom of the heap on the next. It was an emotional roller coaster but he was so tender every time, so sweet, brushing away my tears and kissing my forehead like a mother does to a child. And I got sucked in. _Baby, you know I love you._

_I know._

The spark that had been kindled through passionate kisses and amazing sex lasted for a long time. Whenever he said he was sorry, it would all be okay, and I believed him when he said he loved me, that he'd never meant to hurt me. He would hold me and run his fingers through my hair. _It's okay, Alex. I'm here, baby. I'm here._

That was the problem.

I was blind. Which is why, now, I atone for my sin. For my weakness, for my naiveté, for my _innocence_. I can understand the women who walk through the squad room and into the courtroom, so much braver than I was. I empathize with them, but I also admire them. I could never have done what any of them do. Facing myself every day is a constant struggle, but they manage to find a way to carry on. Maybe having the bastards who hurt them in jail is part of it, but they have a strength I don't possess. Any strength that I have – or even _pretend _to have – is superficial. But then, I'm the one who puts the rapists and wife beaters and child abusers in jail, so maybe I'm braver than I think.

So I make amends for what I did – what was done _to_ me. With every guilty verdict, I erase a tiny part of what happened and it's strangely liberating.

I wonder when I'll have sent enough bad guys to jail to make up for the crimes committed involving sixteen-year-old Alex Cabot.

**Review for chapter five!**


	5. Chapter Four

_Chapter Four_

When I was sixteen, I got into the habit of running whenever I was stressed out. It helped to relieve my pain and gave me an adrenaline rush better than any drug. When I was running, I could forget the world around me. All that existed was me and the New York City landscape. I always loved the city, the skyscrapers so high that you couldn't see the tops, the hustle and the bustle; even the smell of diesel exhaust was endearing to me. Most of all, I loved Central Park.

So today, I pull on a sweatsuit and lock up the apartment, setting off for the park.

I jog for hours, circling Central Park. Finally, I crash back to reality, panting hard from exhaustion. I must have run eight miles, maybe more. So I hail a taxi, too tired to walk the twelve blocks to the apartment. I pay the driver and mount the steps to my apartment, unlock the door, then collapse on the couch.

I must have fallen asleep because I when I start to come to, I feel gentle fingers running through my hair. I smile and relax my muscles, closing my eyes again. _Olivia. _God, I love her.

"Hey," she says softly. "You awake?"

"Mmm." I nod and pull myself into a sitting position so she can sit beside me on the couch. Stifling a yawn, I add, "You're home early."

She laughs. "Not really. It's 5:00."

I'm wide awake now and laugh with her. "Wow. I took a long nap then."

Olivia smiles. "You're not going to be able to sleep tonight."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, _Mom_. I know."

She laughs, then grabs the remote control from the coffee armrest of the couch and flips on the television. I lay my head in her lap and she starts to rub gentle circles into my back.

"Mmm," I purr in contentment, shifting to get more comfortable. "I love you, Liv." It took me so long to be able to say that, but they're the truest words I've ever spoken.

She smiles down at me. "I love you too, Alex."

_She loves me too. _And I know it's true. So I take a deep breath and do one of the bravest things I've ever done. I start to roll up my shirt.

Her hand stills immediately and she takes it away. "Alex?" says Olivia uncertainly, and I wonder if maybe this is a mistake.

But no. She loves me. I love her. I trust her. I can let her in. She's been so good to me and she's always accepted me as I am. So why shouldn't I open up to her?

"It's okay," I tell her, rolling my shirt up even more so she can go back to rubbing my back. _This is what I didn't want you to see. But I trust you enough to show you now._

I hear her sharp intake of breath as she notices the scars that crisscross my back and I can tell she recognizes them for what they are. I tense up, waiting for her to say something, but she doesn't. Instead she leans down and plants a trail of gentle kisses on my back. "You're beautiful," she whispers, with such sincerity that I feel tears rushing to my eyes. She's too good for me.

I guess she notices my watery eyes because she pulls down my shirt and cradles me in her arms like I'm four years old again, kissing away my tears. "It's okay, sweetheart," she murmurs, and I feel my body start to relax in her embrace. I'm here, with Olivia, in her arms. I'm safe. "It's okay. You don't need to tell me anything if you don't want to, but I'm here for you. I love you, Alex."

Then I can't hold back my sobs and my tears overflow. I try to wipe them away, but it's futile. Finally, I give it up, leaning my head against Olivia's shoulder and letting myself cry fifteen years' worth of tears.

She doesn't say anything. She just holds me tight and doesn't let go, which is exactly what I need right now and I wonder how she can tell. She knows me so well. I cling to her like a life preserver. Even though I'm bobbing in an ocean, unsure if I really know how to swim, she's holding me above the water, keeping me afloat. I know she won't let me drown. I've done the right thing by showing her.

Gradually, my sobs subside and I dare a glance up at her. All I can read in Olivia's chocolate orbs is compassion. There's no contempt, there's no disappointment, there's no anger. But then, she doesn't know why. And I'm not quite ready to tell her. "Thank you," I murmur, brushing a few stray tears from my eyes.

She plants a kiss on my hair and wraps her arms tighter around me. Instead of feeling suffocating, it makes me feel so safe. "I love you, Alex," she repeats.

I sigh and try not to cry again. The familiar melody of those words makes my heart soar every time. I've revealed a secret, shameful part of me and she's still here, holding me and kissing better my open wounds. She's such an amazing woman and she loves _me. _How did I get so lucky?

"I love you, too," I tell her, snuggling closer. Then I take a deep breath and meet her eyes. "You can touch me if you want to."

Uncertainty is still evident in her eyes. "Are you sure?"

I love the fact that she cares enough to ask, but I nod, because I am.

"Do you want me to?"

Again, I nod. I've wanted this from the very beginning, but there was always a wall preventing it from happening. Now we've torn down that wall and I want this more than anything.

She lets go of me and I push myself onto shaky legs. With trembling hands, I pull off my shirt and lay it down on the coffee table. I glance at Olivia, trying to gauge her reaction to the bruises that have since formed scars, covering my stomach. There's a bit of sadness, but no pity, no derision, no scorn. She's waiting, motionless, to see what I'll do.

I go back to negotiating my way out of my clothing and unclasp my bra. Then I take off my pants and slowly pull down my panties, then look expectantly at Olivia.

She gives me a soft smile and pulls me back onto her lap, trailing her hands down my sides, ignoring the marks all over my legs, my stomach, my back. Then her hands move down to my thighs.

I tense at the gentle touch, more out of reflex than anything. Olivia's hands still immediately. "We can stop if you want to," she assures me. "We don't have to do this right now."

I shake my head. "I want to."

She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and looks into my eyes. "You have nothing to prove," she says quietly.

"I know."

And then her hands are exploring my body and I lean into the touch, perfectly at ease now. This is bliss.

**Review for the final chapter!**


	6. Chapter Five

**This is my last chapter. I hope you enjoy it!**

_Chapter Five_

We're lying in bed after an evening of passionate sex. Olivia is sound asleep, but I'm lying awake. Wrapped in her arms, I think this must be the best feeling in the world. She doesn't hate me for those scars. She doesn't think any less of me. She loves me still.

And, God, I love her.

Content with that knowledge, I fall into a blissful slumber for the first time in what seems like forever.

_His cold eyes are wild as he grabs my elbow and yanks me out of the room. My entourage stares at me, wondering if they should follow, but I shake my head. They turn away, deciding they'd rather stay at the party than protect their queen. But then, they didn't know I'd need any._

_Somehow, we end up in the bedroom and he locks the door before shoving me to the ground. My head smashes against the hard wall and for a second, I see stars. "What did I -?" I start to ask, slightly dazed, but I'm interrupted by a sharp smack to my face, and then I have the good sense to stay silent, clutching my burning cheek._

"_You don't flirt with other guys," he growls, pressing his face close to mine and grabbing my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. "Got it?"_

_I nod, too afraid to even insist that I wasn't flirting – which I wasn't. But all I want is for him to let go of me. I've learned long ago that being right isn't the most important thing; minimizing the number of bruises I'll have the next day is the imperative thing._

_He takes off his belt, hits me once, twice, three times. Against my better judgment, I cry out from the pain that sears through my back. But he keeps hitting. I curl up into a ball and murmur a silent prayer, even though it never helps a thing. I've never been the most religious person in the world, but it's all I can do as the lashes cut into my already tender back. Some catch me on the backs of my thighs or the sensitive skin of my arms. "Stop!" I finally manage to cry out, choking on my tears. "I love you! I would never do that! I'm sorry!"_

_Those are the magic words and he throws the belt down, aiming a kick at my head. I bite down hard on my bottom lip. Is it over?_

"_Prove it," he says in a soft, dangerous voice._

_And before I know it, rough hands are tearing at my clothes, ripping them off my tender body._

"_No," I murmur. "No, please don't, no. No!"_

"No!" I cry, bolting upright as tears streak, unchecked, down my cheeks. "Please!" I wrap my arms around myself and start to cry even harder, heaving sobs that wrack my whole body. "Don't!"

"Alex."

I raise my hands to cover my head to shield it from anymore blows as more tears leak from my eyes.

The voice comes again, soft and sweet. "Alex, it's okay, honey. It's just me." _It's not him._

I open my eyes and turn to find the source of the sound. _Oh, my God. It's Olivia._

I bury my face in my hands and let out a strangled sob. _This is why I prefer not to sleep at night. This is what happens._

I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder and shy away at the contact, more out of impulse than any actual fear. It's just Olivia. I left _him _behind fifteen years ago and he's never coming back. I'm safe.

I hear her sigh and wince. _I've upset her. This is the last thing I wanted. _But she doesn't say anything. She pulls me close and gently strokes my hair. "It's okay," she whispers. "It was just a dream. I'm here. You're safe. You're okay."

I can't stop the tears from running down my cheeks and I can't bear to look at her. I stare at the wall, trying to calm my racing heart. _What have I done? _"I'm sorry," I whimper to myself, then turn over to face Olivia. "I'm sorry," I repeat, to her this time.

She presses a soft kiss to my temple. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're okay. It was only a dream."

More tears streak down my face. She's too good for me. I rest my head against her shoulder as a shiver courses through my body. _What does she think of me now?_

Olivia brushes my hair back from my face and shifts so she's looking right into my eyes. She kisses away my tears, then says quietly, "I love you, Alex. You don't ever have to be afraid anymore, okay?"

I nod, but then I turn away. I'm too ashamed to meet her eyes.

She hugs me tighter and goes back to running her fingers through my hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head vigorously, stifling a sob.

"Okay," she says softly. "It's okay. You don't need to talk about anything you don't want to talk about. But you never need to worry about anything. I love you, Alex, just because you're _Alex_. Whatever this is, it's part of you, and I would never judge you for it."

That's all I need to hear right now. I wonder how she can tell.

I lay my head on her shoulder as she rubs gentle circles into my back. We lie like that for about ten minutes before I make up my mind about something. I want to do this. I _need _to do this. We can't be together if we can't be honest. So with no segue whatsoever, I just blurt it out, quickly, so I don't lose my nerve. "When I was sixteen, I was a screwed up kid. I was popular, but popularity comes with a price. And I needed a reprieve. So I found sex." I try to gauge her reaction, but she gives no indication that she's even heard me, although I know she's listening intently. She continues to rub my back and I continue, "It was meaningless, a series of one night stands. But then there was a boy who changed it all. I loved him more than I'd ever loved anyone in my life. And things were great at first, but then – then they weren't. He started getting violent. Abusive. He hit me. All the time. And now I know, maybe, maybe his father hit him, or someone, or something. But that didn't make it any easier." I take a deep breath. "After he beat me unconscious one day, my mother found me, covered in bruises. And that was the end of it."

Olivia kisses the crown of my head. "It's not your fault," she murmurs. "And you never have to be ashamed. You're _brave_, Alex. You're the bravest person I know. Your past is part of you, but it doesn't _define _you."

"But I used to be beautiful," I whisper.

She looks right at me and brushes a few stray tears from my eyes. "But Alex," she says simply. "You are."

**So that's the end. I hope you liked it! Please review if you did.**


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